


Downstairs

by Shorm (Bdoing)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 19:28:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bdoing/pseuds/Shorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a Tumblr prompt asking for dystopian druxy ('something that appears beautiful on the outside but is rotten inside'). Heavily based on an episode of Angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Downstairs

Scott woke up as if he was in a movie. He almost immediately sat up, stretched his arms after shutting off the alarm clock - not too loud, but not so quiet it wouldn’t wake him up, and then leaned over to give his wonderful wife a peck on the cheek as she stirred, slightly slower to wake.

“Good morning, darling.”

Allison smiled at him, blinking the sleep out of her eyes before getting up herself, stretching away the lethargy. They showered and changed, Scott whistling while he tied his tie and Allison fussing over his collar so he’d be sure to make a good impression at the office - he was meeting the CEO today, and he was hoping to get in his good books.

He walked downstairs and started breakfast, since Allison had already been good enough to flip on the coffee; he pulled eggs and bacon out of the fridge, whistling the same tune again. He couldn’t seem to get a fix on what it was, but he had woken up with the melody ringing in his brain.

The bacon spat at him ineffectually as he moved it around with the spatula, the wonderful smell filling the room as Allison handed him a coffee, her own already in her hand (and already half-finished; she almost always had two in the morning before heading to work). She came up behind him and slid her hands around his waist, swaying back and forth as he whistled, waiting for breakfast.

Breakfast was fast, but delicious. Scott read the paper while waiting for Allison to finish; they always went to work together, since Scott started later and finished a bit earlier than Allison; he could just drop her off and pick her up.

“Oh, honey,” Allison said, putting a hand on his shoulder as he reached for the front door. “Can you just run downstairs and grab my purse? I think I left it down there last night.”

Something was tugging at the back of Scott’s brain, telling him that downstairs was most definitely not somewhere he wanted to go. He smiled, but even he could feel that it wasn’t quite… right. It wasn’t genuine, not even to him.

“Are you sure? Why would it be downstairs?”

She smiled back, clearly annoyed. “I took it down there when I got home, and I must have left it. I’ll just clean up breakfast while you go.” Suddenly, her smile brightened. “Go on, we’re gonna be late.”

Scott sighed and walked towards the basement door, hand outstretched without actually making contact for a moment. He could heel his heart pounding in his chest, he’d started sweating, and his breath was catching. The tugging feeling at the base of his brain was getting stronger. He really, really did not want to go down there.

But it was his own house.

He was just being silly.

“Thanks, babe!” came Allison’s voice, sailing down the stairs and somehow making him shudder. He shook his head and closed his eyes, willing his heart rate to go back down to normal, willing himself to calm the fuck down.

He took a few steps down the rather creaky wooden stairs - he made a mental note to take a look at them that evening to make sure they were safe for him and Allison to be using every day - and reached the basement floor.

He reached for the light switch and had another moment of inexplicable near-panic before forcing himself to just get over himself, and threw the switch. And then threw it back and forth a couple times, sighing.

“Light’s out!”

“Oh, shit, here, let me help you look, then,” Allison said, appearing at the top of the stairs, hurriedly stepping down the stairs.

Together, they moved into the ‘rec room’ part of the basement, which was really just an open space with a TV and old but comfortable couches, some of the first things they’d bought together as a couple. Scott knew the basement like the back of his hand.

Which would be why it came as something of a shock to him when Allison pushed him over the low-lying coffee table in the middle, and when he fell and hit his head, his arms and legs were perfectly positioned over shackles in the floor, the dazed feeling from the hit to his head giving Allison just enough time to lock him in.

“A-Allison, what the—?”

She just grinned, reached behind the couch for her purse — Ah, of course it was there, Scott thought through the panic, it was next to her usual seat! — and out came a rather large knife.

With the large grin still plastered on her face, she plunged the knife into Scott’s chest, his body bucking against the chains. He tried to call out, but couldn’t find the strength; as she sliced open his chest and blood seeped out, black crept in from the edges of his vision, and the last thing that he saw before it all met in the middle was his beautiful wife, straddling his chest, a look of intense focus and incredible joy on her face as she tried to spread apart his ribs, blood on her face.

And then there was just black.

Scott woke up, suddenly, and it was almost as if he were in a movie. He almost immediately sat up, stretched his arms after shutting off the alarm clock - not too loud, but not so quiet it wouldn’t wake him up, and then leaned over to give his wonderful wife a peck on the cheek as she stirred, slightly slower to wake.

There was some nagging feeling of horror in the back of his mind, but he put it down to a bad dream and smiled at Allison as she woke up.

“Good morning, darling.”


End file.
